The rune-etched carriage, its metallic surfaces cool beneath the late afternoon sun, rolled to a gentle halt before a sprawling stone courtyard. Stoic statues of legendary warriors, their weathered faces softened by moss and time, stood sentinel, gazing resolutely toward the bustling heart of the city. Cedric, a restless energy thrumming beneath his skin, was the first to hop down, his joints emitting a satisfying pop as he stretched his arms wide.
"Let's walk the rest," he suggested, a note of local pride coloring his voice. "The teleportation station is just around the corner, and this part of Highridge is best experienced on foot. You really soak in the… chaos." He grinned, gesturing vaguely at the lively sounds drifting from the nearby streets.
Kael nodded, a thrill of anticipation mixing with the unfamiliar scents of the city – spices, roasted nuts, and something vaguely floral – stirring in his chest. He followed Cedric as the guards remained with the carriage, their expressions impassive.
The winding streets pulsed with a vibrant energy, a stark contrast to the grand, orderly avenues they had traversed. The air buzzed with a hundred conversations, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer, and the lively melodies of street musicians. A sword juggler, his movements fluid and mesmerizing, spun gleaming blades that caught the sunlight in dazzling arcs, drawing gasps and cheers, and a shower of hastily tossed coins. Above the throng, enchanted lanterns, crafted from delicate, glowing glass, drifted lazily, their soft light mingling with the warm hues of the afternoon sun. Kael, momentarily distracted by a vendor selling intricately carved wooden birds that chirped with surprising realism, turned a sharp corner—
Thud.
Someone, small and surprisingly solid, slammed into him.
He staggered back, the breath knocked from his lungs, his hand flying instinctively to his belt—
Empty.
The familiar weight of his pouch was gone.
A cold fury tightened his gaze as he snapped his head up. A fleeting shadow, all shabby clothes and a shock of dark hair, darted away into the crowd, nimble feet already eating up the cobblestones.
"Thief!" he roared, the shout ripping from his throat more from pure instinct than any real expectation of being heard.
Cedric spun around, his easygoing demeanor instantly replaced by sharp alertness. "What?!"
But Kael was already in motion, his boots hammering against the uneven cobblestones, the pursuit tearing through Highridge's vibrant chaos. The sounds of the city became a blurred backdrop to the urgent rhythm of his own breathing.
She was fast, a wisp of movement in the throng.
The girl weaved between laden carts overflowing with colorful fabrics and fragrant spices, her small frame slipping through gaps that seemed impossibly narrow. Kael pushed harder, ignoring the startled gasps and muttered curses of those he jostled, vaulting over a low fruit stand, sending a cascade of bright red apples rolling across the stones, and ducking beneath a series of flapping banners advertising potent elixirs. She navigated the maze-like alleys with an almost supernatural ease, a fleeting glimpse of black hair and patched boots the only constant in his vision.
"Hey! Stop!" he yelled, the futility of the command echoing in the narrow passage.
She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and in that brief moment, Kael saw her eyes – molten gold, gleaming not with fear, but with a spark of impish amusement.
Kael gritted his teeth. She was younger than he initially thought, maybe even his own age, and possessed a disconcerting level of skill. But this wasn't just about the stolen pouch. It was the audacity, the blatant disregard, the almost playful mockery in her golden gaze.
She veered sharply down a particularly narrow alley, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and stale refuse. He followed, rounding the corner with a burst of speed—only to be met with a faceful of damp laundry, the unexpected softness momentarily blinding him.
"Argh—"
He fought his way through the tangled sheets and roughspun tunics, stumbling out into a small, shadowed courtyard on the other side, the scent of lavender clinging to him.
She was waiting.
Leaning casually against a weathered brick wall, his pouch dangling from her fingertips, a smug, self-satisfied grin playing on her lips.
"Finally caught up, huh?" she said, her voice surprisingly clear amidst the city's din.
Kael bent over, hands on his knees, his lungs burning. "You—you can talk?" he gasped, still catching his breath.
"Duh," she replied, rolling her eyes with exaggerated exasperation. "What, just because I wear rags and relieve people of their excess baggage, I must be mute too?"
Now that he was closer, the details of her appearance sharpened into focus. The shabby tunic was worn thin at the elbows, the patched boots scuffed and dusty, a faded scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Yet, despite her appearance, there was a coiled tension in her stance, a subtle alertness in her eyes that spoke of something beyond mere street smarts. She moved with a fluid grace, like a dancer poised to spring.
"Give it back," Kael demanded, taking a step forward, his frustration mounting.
She flipped the pouch in the air, the leather glinting in the dim light, and caught it with a practiced ease. "What's in it for me?"
"Not getting arrested."
"Hmm." She tapped a grimy finger against her chin, considering. "Tempting. But—"
Heavy boots echoed from the alley entrance behind them. Cedric and two Valdren guards, their swords already drawn and gleaming menacingly, rounded the corner, their expressions grim.
"That her?" Cedric asked, pointing a gloved hand towards Renna.
Kael nodded, still winded and slightly disoriented by the laundry assault. "She's fast. And incredibly annoying."
One of the guards, his face stern, stepped forward. "You're under arrest. Come quietly."
The girl sighed dramatically, a theatrical roll of her eyes accompanying the sound. "Ugh. This again."
"That won't be necessary," a new voice cut through the tense air—sharp, composed, and carrying an unmistakable weight of authority.
Every head turned, all eyes drawn to the newcomer.
A tall woman approached, her presence commanding even before her two elite guards, clad in polished silver-and-crimson armor, came into full view. Her crimson cloak, the color of rich wine, billowed slightly behind her, the intricate silver griffin in flight – the sigil of Vandor's eastern province – emblazoned proudly upon its back. An unspoken command seemed to emanate from her, quieting the immediate surroundings.
Cedric blinked in genuine surprise. "Lady Ilyana? Didn't expect to see you in Highridge so soon."
She offered him a brief, almost formal smile. "Cedric Valdren. You've gained some height since the last summit. I trust your father is finally allowing you to venture beyond the family estates?"
He gave a playful, if slightly abashed, bow. "Took some… persuasive arguments on my part."
Ilyana turned her attention to the girl, her gaze direct and assessing. "And you—Renna, wasn't it? You promised one week without incident. One week."
The girl – Renna, apparently – merely shrugged, her golden eyes flicking momentarily to Kael before returning to Ilyana. "Technically, I didn't start the trouble. I just… temporarily borrowed some personal belongings."
"Without asking," Kael muttered under his breath, still feeling the sting of the earlier humiliation.
Ilyana addressed him directly now, her tone softening slightly. "My apologies for this unfortunate encounter. Renna is… under my care."
Kael blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Your… care?"
"And," she added, with a significant glance towards the two guards, "she is this year's Academy candidate from Highridge."
Silence hung in the air, thick and unexpected.
"..."
Cedric's jaw visibly dropped. "Her?" he stammered, disbelief etched on his face.
Renna, with a flourish that seemed almost mocking, tossed Kael his pouch. "Surprise."
Kael caught it automatically, the familiar weight grounding him slightly. "Wait, what just happened?"
The guards exchanged bewildered glances.
Ilyana's composed expression didn't waver. "She is… unconventional. Difficult, at times. But don't let the rough exterior fool you, young man. Renna possesses skills you wouldn't believe."
Renna grinned, a flash of genuine amusement now sparkling in her golden eyes. "Told you I wasn't your average light-fingered local."